


Going Under

by agntsanvers



Category: Power Rangers (2017)
Genre: ADVENTURE!, And most importantly, GAY!, Multi, Post-Apocalyptic, Slow Burn, daring escapes and rescues!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 00:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14944341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agntsanvers/pseuds/agntsanvers
Summary: Kim's just trying to survive. She doesn't need anyone, especially not two boys who quote disney too much and drag her along on their hair-brained schemes.Kim's never been good at knowing what she needs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a while...oops
> 
> the good thing is i've got this whole thing planned out so i should be updating pretty regularly. hopefully. maybe. The gay is slow-coming in Trini and Kim's case, but hopefully Cranscott cuteness and a good plot can keep you engaged until then

It used to be a forest. Wide, expansive, if the tree stumps and exposed roots were any sign. It was probably beautiful. Probably one of those places people picketed in front of with signs about environmental conservation. A place you could get lost in. 

It’s not like that anymore.

Like the rest of the country, like the rest of the world, if Kimberly had to guess, the forest is a barren wasteland. A newly formed desert. Absolute shit. 

Kim kind of wishes she had visited with her family, seen the beauty for herself. That would have required her parents to take time off their jobs, though. Her parents. It’s been almost three years since they died. They died early on during the Decline. It’s been a while since she thought about them. Her fingers itch to rub at her necklace, a locket with an old picture of her parents.

She dodges around the remnants of the Old World - chunks of brick and warped metal, heading northwest. Her new dirt bike, stolen from a caravan a fortnight ago, handles the loose sand better than her old Harley. The maneuverability will come in handy soon enough. 

She stops at an old gas station, half buried in the ground. She can barely see the top of the gas pumps. She’s more hopeful about the contents of the Food Mart than the gas tanks, so she decides to try pumping gas first. Best to save the reward for after she’s disappointed. 

She manages to get almost half a tank out of both pumps. A pleasant surprise after having sand come out of the last pump she stopped at.  _ God,  _ she hates the desert. There being leftover gas is a good sign. There probably aren’t a lot of people around. Less competition for resources. Less people to avoid or fight.

After wheeling her bike off to the side of the Food Mart so it’s out of sight, Kimberly stomps to the front of the store. The sand covers most of the door, leaving barely enough space for her to slip inside. She jumps to the ground. A cascade of sand follows her into the store. Light barely filters in through the filthy windows. It casts everything into brown-orange light, makes shadows seem alive. The store is small, but still large enough to hide someone. Kimberly draws her large bowie knife and slowly moves around the store. Once she’s sure it’s empty, she sheathes her knife and allows herself to look through the aisles. 

She starts salivating as she looks at the shelves. The middle two aisles house two rows of canned food each, enough to last her a month if she rations it. The other aisles hold other Old World relics, phone chargers and stuffed animals. Luxuries no longer needed. 

She stalks forward, her boots echoing dully through the store. Opening her backpack, she brushes as many cans as will fit inside. Two at a time, she carries the rest of the cans to the door and tosses them out onto the sand. She grabs two new pairs of aviators, her last pair lost months ago. There are t-shirts at the back of the store, tacky tourist trap shit that say things like “The Grand Canyon” and “Arizona!” even though she’s nowhere near the Grand Canyon. There must not be much else in Arizona if that’s all they can brag about.

Kimberly’s not that desperate for clothes yet. Sure, her black tank top is almost in rags and her leather jacket is almost worn through in a few places. That does  _ not  _ mean she’ll wear a neon orange shirt. Ever. 

She does one more sweep of the store, grabbing a few toiletry items as well as an unopened bag of Bugles. She tears open the package, stuffing the corn chips into her mouth. They’re not super stale. She didn’t like Bugles. Before. When she could have an opinion about food. Now, though, she wishes she had another bag. Or three. She cuts the side of the bag open with her knife and licks away any last trace of flavor. No sense in wasting anything.

She climbs out of the store and begins organizing the remaining cans in the saddlebags attached to her bike. Once she’s done, the bike leans slightly to the left. She glares at the bags, annoyed at the imbalance but not willing to give anything up. She’ll adjust to the weight. This is the most food she’s found in weeks - if not months.

The trip to LA is long. She’s heard it’s a safe haven. What’s left of it at least. It was one of the cities that got the worst of the bombings. She knows over half of it was razed to the ground, but hopefully the rumors are true and what’s left has some sort of civilization. She’s ready to be around people again. Ready for her exile to end.

Her stomach growls. She considers the saddlebags once more before opening the left one and grabbing a can. The bike still leans. Grumbling, she takes out her knife and stabs it into the top of the can, roughly cutting it open. She licks the sauce off the top. She trades the knife for her spoon. Leaning against her bike, she scarfs down the baked beans as quickly as possible. She runs her finger along the inside of the can, scooping any remnants she can get into her mouth. Her hands and the spoon are wiped off on the grimy bandana stuck in her pocket.

Three years in a post-apocalyptic wasteland have made Kimberly a bit lax in her hygiene. 

Double checking her map, for what little good it does, Kimberly climbs onto her bike. Supposedly, she’s heading into the Mojave Desert. Or the Great Basin Desert. One of those. She just has to head west. She figures once she gets closer to where the cities are there’ll be road signs she can use. Once her pink helmet is securely on her head, she peels away from the gas station with a satisfying roar.

She should enter the desert proper today. The rest of the country is covered in sand, sure, but it’s nothing compared to the Old World deserts. This is the one stretch Kimberly is worried about.

What is it about the worst places attracting the worst kinds of people? The desert is bad enough on its own, unpredictable sandstorms and sweltering heat deterring most people, and adding bands of violent scavengers doesn’t help anything. 

Kim can tell when she passes into the desert. The sand gets deeper, finer. More natural. This sand isn’t the product of forced terraforming. She can’t see small pieces of bone or dead plants or buildings. It’s just sand.

Kimberly’s making good time. She was right, the extra maneuverability helps. At the rate she’s moving, she’ll hopefully be past the desert in a day or so. 

She doesn’t see them coming until it’s too late. She crests a dune and slams on her brakes, barely managing to keep her balance at the top. At the base, five figures sit on ATVs, their faces covered by what look like paintball masks. She turns around, but her exit is cut off, three more figures waiting behind her, this time on dirt bikes like hers. Groups of two wait on the other sides of the dunes.

Scavengers. One of the reasons the desert should be avoided. Kimberly hopes they let her live. This time she lets her hand rise, lets herself feel the engraved quote on the locket.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim meets Jason and Billy. It doesn't go well

Jason speeds over the dune, whooping as the dune buggy catches air before landing on the other side.

“Jason!” Billy scolds, and Jason can feel his glare.

“What? You can’t say that that wasn’t fun,” Jason replies. 

“I just want you to be careful with this buggy. We just got it. And you crashed the last one too.”

“Okay, that totally wasn’t my fault! And we got this better one anyways, so it turned out fine.”

“...Sure.”

Jason takes a hard left, enjoying the spray of sand from under his tires. He’s testing the handling of the dune buggy. He’s not  _ joyriding.  _ Even if he was, they need some fun. It comes in short supply when you’re stuck in an apocalypse. Jason shakes the thoughts away. He does a donut in the sand, letting the adrenaline overtake the dark thoughts. 

They drive over a ridge that edges a lower section of desert. They can see for miles. Jason stops and climbs out of the sandrail. He pulls off his goggles and the t-shirt he had wrapped around his head as protection from the spray of sand. Billy does the same and joins him where he leans against the vehicle’s front.

“So, which of us is Simba?” Billy asks after a few moments of looking over the landscape.

“I’m Mufasa. I’ve got the hair.”

“Hey, my hair’s getting pretty long too.” Billy pats his small afro.

Jason ruffles his shaggy hair. “Yeah, but it just doesn’t flow in the wind like -”

“Jason,” Billy interrupts. “Jason, look.”

His voice is dark, serious in a way Jason’s only heard a few times. Jason looks to where he’s pointing and sees why. In the distance, clouds of dust follow dark shapes moving over the terrain.

“Bandits. Get the binoculars.” The command is unnecessary, Billy already moving to their packs.

He pulls the binoculars out and returns to Jason’s side, lifting them to his face. “Twelve bandits. One target. About four miles out.”

“Roll out?” Jason asks, already moving to the driver’s side. 

“Let’s go.”

Jason covers his face and climbs into the rail as Billy grabs the sawed-off shotgun from the back. Billy’s barely seated when Jason takes off. With four miles to cover and the scavengers already surrounding the target, Jason’s not sure they’ll get there in time. He pushes the buggy as hard as he can, flying over the sand.

“How many shells do we have?” Jason yells.

“Seven. Let’s hope the target takes out some of the scavengers before we get there.”

“They wouldn’t be out here if they couldn’t handle themselves.” Jason grits his teeth and goes faster. He hopes he’s right.

He’s glad he messed around with the rail. He knows how it handles. Knows he can crest dunes without slowing. Billy’s silent, not protesting the rough maneuvers Jason puts the vehicle through. They’re about a mile out when Jason speaks.

“Shoot and roll?” 

“Ok.” Billy continues checking the gun, making sure the pump slides smoothly. He counts and recounts the shells. The number doesn’t change. Jason focuses back on the road.

* * *

 

Twelve. Twelve fucking bandits.

Kim turns her bike in a quick three-sixty, ignoring the spray of sand from her tires as she takes stock of the situation. Only three have guns, two of them on ATVs and one off to her left in a group of two. She’ll try to avoid them. The rest rely on wicked looking knives larger than her own. One hefts a tomahawk and another pulls a machete out.

An engine revs below her. If she’s going to get out of this alive, Kim’s going to have to act fast.

She races down the right side of the hill towards one of the groups of two. She races between them before they can react and strikes out with her left foot. The man goes tumbling off his bike. To compensate for the extra momentum, she turns sharply towards the second person. They’re more prepared, but Kimberly quickly brakes and turns, her back wheel fishtailing into the scavenger’s bike. It tips over, pinning one of the their legs to the sand. She can’t stop in time. Her bike jolts as she rides across his torso. The harsh snap of ribs breaking startles the remaining bandits into motion. She ignores the sounds of their approach for now, focusing on the first bandit she hit. He’s standing but unsteady. She drives over him too.

“Already took one out this way,” she hisses, pretending the body’s a speed bump. She doesn’t know if they’re dead, but she’ll be satisfied with out-of-commission for now.

She has space, at least for a few seconds. She faces the approaching men and thinks. Kim can’t outrun all of them. Especially not the ones with guns. She unsheathes her bowie knife and revs her engine. The remaining bandits are close. Kimberly takes off. She flips her knife in her hand, sends it into one of the riders’ chest. The bike careens into the one next to it, the rider going flying. Four down. Kimberly hopes her luck holds.

A sharp crack and Kimberly’s arm goes numb. Her bike dips dangerously as she jerks. Her arm throbs, heat radiating from her shoulder. She can’t lift it. A quick glance shows a newly blood-soaked jacket. There’s a hole in the front, torn through by a bullet. She can’t see the other side. For all she knows, the bullet is still lodged in her arm. 

“ _ Motherfucker, _ ” she gasps as she swerves away from the incoming attackers. “I fucking jinxed it.  _ Shit. _ ”

She’s not sure how well she’ll be able to steer for an extended period of time, but she’s about to find out. She drives back up the dune. Buys herself a few seconds. There’s one biker lagging behind the rest. She should be able to take him out. 

“Hopefully,” Kim mutters. “Knock on wood. Saying it should have the same effect as doing it, right?” 

She rides towards the straggler. He sees her coming and holds up his knife. They’re driving towards each other, Kim’s reckless charge quickly becoming a game of chicken. She wishes she hadn’t thrown her knife. Not that she can really throw it now. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the handlebar. Kim tries to make sure her anxiety doesn’t show on her face. She can tell the bandit is getting nervous as they get closer, but she just grits her teeth and glares. Maybe she can intimidate him out of the way before they collide. At what seems like the last second, his bike swerves away. Kim jerks in response, the close call making her skittish. She doesn’t fall, and neither does the other biker.

For a second, Kim considers trying to outrun them. The burning in her arm reminds her that while she might be faster than them, they can still take her down. She’s beyond the perimeter the scavengers had set up, but they aren’t wasting any time, heading towards her as quickly as possible.

* * *

 

There are eight bandits left when Jason and Billy arrive. The target, a girl, is weaving in and out of the remaining attackers. She hangs onto her bike with one hand. Jason wonders why for a moment, but he quickly sees the blood dripping from her limp fingers. He can tell she’s getting tired from the slump of her shoulders to the shake of her good arm. She hears them coming and looks up, animal fear flashing in her eyes.

“Ready, B?” he glances at Billy who holds the shotgun steady in his arms.

Billy smiles at him. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Jason grabs Billy’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “You’ve got it.”

He drives closer, waiting until he’s in range of four of the bandits. He pulls the hand break, sending the buggy into a tight spin. Billy reaches out, shooting as he passes the bandits. As soon as he shoots, he rolls out onto the sand, pulling out another shell as he does. He springs into a crouch, sliding the shell into the chamber. He gets off another round into the group. They all go down with varying degrees of injury.

Their arrival garners the attention of the rest of the bandits. Jason skids to a stop, jumping from his seat. He charges one of the men, tackling him off his dingy red ATV. Jason knocks the helmet from the man’s face, raising his fist as he does. He pauses, fist in the air, when he makes eye contact with the bandit. It’s a  _ kid.  _ No more than fifteen. He looks around them, wondering how many are the same age. With his attention elsewhere, the bandit takes a chance and knees Jason in the stomach.

He rolls off with a groan. The kid gets off a few punches, his fist slamming into Jason’s face. Jason takes a swing of his own, using his weight and strength to reverse the tides. Two well placed punches (Billy taught him how to be efficient with his fighting) and the kid is passed out in the sand. Jason takes a moment to look at him, his heart beating painfully in his chest. Pearl would be about this kid’s age if-

Jason throws himself back into the battle. It’s over quickly. He barely registers most of it. Afterwards, he stands with Billy near their buggy. He checks Billy over for injuries, ignoring his protests.

“Jason, I’m fine.”

“I know, I know,” Jason says, unable to explain his worry, unable to explain what the sight of the kid did to him. Unable to explain how he sees Pearl at every turn. “I just - I need to see for myself.

“Okay,” Billy answers softly, cupping a rough hand around his chin. “Okay.”

* * *

 

Kim looks warily at the boys leaning against the bright red buggy. They look to be about her age. The shorter one wears a beat-up denim jacket over a white-ish shirt. A red piece of fabric wraps around his head, shielding him from the sand. The taller one wears what seems to be a navy blue sweatsuit with small colorful print running across it. He’s wearing a yellow sweatband. The odd look is almost charming, and Kim finds herself thawing slightly towards him. She shakes away the feeling.  While she appreciates their help with the bandits, who’s to say they aren’t worse?

She keeps an eye on them as she moves through the carnage, grabbing whatever she can use. Out of the three guns, a hefty Desert Eagle has the most ammo. She tucks it into the back of her pants. The bandits aren’t carrying much else.  She fills her canteen with their water and takes another one as backup. She finds a few protein bars and adds a machete to her slowly growing weapons cache. She can syphon off extra fuel once the others leave and she can give the task her full attention.

One of the boys shifts abruptly. Kim jumps, instinctively raising her hands in defense. The movement makes her yelp as her wound pulls and protests. She watches for more movement, but they stay still, watching her warily and with barely disguised pity.  She slowly walks backwards, keeping them in sight but going out of earshot enough that she can curse quietly over the pain. 

She walks to her bike. Haphazardly, she digs through one of the saddlebags until she’s found her roll of duct tape. Biting down on her dingy bandana, Kim pulls her jacket off. Some of the blood has dried between her arm and the jacket. It cracks painfully as she pulls it apart. Once her jacket is off, she uses her teeth to peel a piece of tape away from the roll. She wraps it three times around the gunshot wound. It will stop the bleeding and keep it airtight until she is able to make camp. She shrugs her jacket back on.

Her rescuers are conversing quietly. The white boy glances at her every so often, distrust written all over his face. She doesn’t blame him. Trust comes in short supply now. She wonders why they’re still around. They haven’t looted anything like she did, and they don’t seem upset that she took the useful stuff. Do they expect her to pay them somehow?

“You should travel with us.” White Boy doesn’t exactly look happy about his declaration.

Kim frowns, propping her good hand on her hip. “Is this because you saved my life? You saved me, so I should come with you? What are you going to do, bargain me off to a different group of psychopaths? Sorry, but no. You might as well just kill me now.”

“I - what? No, we just thought, you know, safety in numbers in all that.”

“Plus you’re hurt,” the tall black boy chimes in. “You got shot and it isn’t safe for you to travel alone on a bike with your arm. I mean, it really isn’t safe for you to be travelling alone at all, but the arm definitely makes the problem worse. You seem nice, and we just-”

“How the fuck do you know if I’m nice or not? You don’t know me. You just got to see me try to survive a bunch of fucking scavengers who wanted to kill me and take my shit.” Kim almost regrets her harsh words when the boy flinches. Almost.

“Look.” She wipes her hand down her face. “I appreciate the thought. I do better by myself.”

“No one does better on their own,” the taller one murmurs, a hand fidgeting with his sleeve.

“How ‘bout this. You let Billy take a look at your arm and think about whether you want to travel with us. If not, no worries. We’ll go our separate ways.”

“So you’re Billy,” Kim says, disregarding the rest of White Boy’s speech.

“I am,” Billy stumbles forward, hand outstretched. Kim tenses, but just stops herself from flinching back. “Billy Cranston. Kids at school used to-”

A strong hand lands on Billy’s arm. “She doesn’t need to hear the whole spiel, B.” He looks at Kim. “I’m Jason.”

“Kim.” She looks down at her arm. “I appreciate the thought, but I can take care of myself. I already kinda owe you, and I’d rather not be even further indebted.”

Kim thought she was ready to be with people again. Maybe if she had been rescued by anyone else, she wouldn’t hesitate to agree to join up. But these boys, boys she can tell are  _ good  _ and  _ kind  _ even in the midst of a barren hellscape, she can’t travel with them. She’ll make them worse, make them lose that spark in their eyes, that earnest urge to help. She’d destroy it,  _ them,  _ like she destroyed everything else in her life. 

“Kim, please,” Jason pleads. “At least let us get the bullet out.”

Her thoughts run rampant through her head, thoughts of her old life, of Amanda and Ty and her parents. “ _ No. _ ” the command is emphatic, just bordering on hysterical. “I take care of myself.”

* * *

 

Jason and Billy watch helplessly as Kim fills her bike with gas and takes off. They’re left standing in the midst of the battlefield, a mix of ruined vehicles and bodies. The dry sand is spotted with blood. It congeals under the harsh light of the sun.

“We should get out of here,” Jason starts. “We don’t want any of these guys waking up and giving us a hard time.”

“Back to base?”

“Back to base.”

Jason lets Billy drive. He can’t seem to concentrate on anything. He sees ghosts in the sand, his teammates, his friends,  _ Pearl.  _ They reach for him even as he speeds by, lost and unable to help them. He grasps one of Billy’s hands, not letting go even as he protests about safe driving techniques. Billy is here. Billy is real and present and not demanding that he save him from inevitable fate. Billy is Jason’s family. Billy is who he worries about. Not about the past, not about an angry girl scared of travelling with them.  _ Billy.  _ He doesn’t need anyone else. He ignores the voice whispering that it’s because he doesn’t  _ have  _ anybody else. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit short, sorry. It's also late. im on vacation tho so forgive meeee

The sun is setting by the time Kim finally stops. Better to put as much space between her and the attack site as possible. She stops at the base of a large dune, its cresting top creating shade in the fading light. She sits against the warm side of the dune, her bike leaning precariously in front of her. Kim pokes at the duct tape wrapped around her arm. She has to get the bullet out. 

Leaning forward, she grabs her jacket from where it’s slung across her bags. She bunches it up and bites down on the thickest part. It tastes of old sweat and dirt. Kim has to resist the reflex to spit it out. She can deal with the musky taste if it means she won’t bite through her tongue. 

She pulls at the tape. Each movement feels like her skin is being ripped off centimeter by centimeter, hair by hair. Grunts escape around damp leather as Kim narrows her eyes against the pain. The skin around the gunshot is red and puffy. It’s either irritated by the tape or infection is already setting in. She doesn’t want to find out which. She also doesn’t want to fucking dig around  _ in  _ her arm. If she leaves it, her arm will probably heal around it, right? Kim knows that’s a dumb idea. Even dumber than leaving Jason and Billy. She pushes the boys from her mind. 

Her breath comes in rough pants; she’s anxious about getting the bullet. She tries to take deep breaths, but ends up feeling lightheaded. She waits until her heart has calmed down and her lungs no longer feel like they’re going to burst. 

She reaches up with shaking fingers. Her fingers break through the slight scabbing at the edges of the wound as she pushes in. Pain, worse than the shot itself, bolts through her arm. It’s a steady current, dimming her vision. Her fingers quickly become slick with blood. She feels the bullet. Her ears echo with the sound of her heartbeat and her harsh panting. The bullet, her fingers, one of them, is too slick. Kim can’t grab the metal. Tears pool on the leather of her jacket and leak into her mouth. She finally manages to grab it, her nail catching on tender flesh before securing the bullet. She pulls, icy pain making itself known.

Kim’s hand falls limp at her side. The shining red bullet tumbles onto the grass. Her head goes weak against the sand, her eyes rolling back. She passes out, her body not able to deal with the pain in any other way. 

* * *

“Can we go after Kim?” Billy whispers, his breath warm on Jason’s bare collar.

They lounge on the floor of a cave they found a week earlier. They’ve both shed their shirts in an effort to escape the heat that radiates from the sun-baked sand.  A scratchy picnic blanket protects them from the ground. Jason watches the sun move across the sky through the mouth of the cave. “It’s late, Billy. We don’t want to be out past dark.”

“But I’m worried. She’s going to have to do a major medical procedure on herself.  _ By  _ herself.

“She didn’t want our help.” Jason gently shifts Billy from where he rests and sits up. He rubs at the long scar that crosses his torso. “We can’t force her to accept us.

“She was scared, Jason. I don’t blame her. We just need to prove that we can be trusted.”

“Do we even know if  _ she  _ can be trusted? There’s probably a reason she’s travelling alone. How do we know she didn’t murder her last group?”

“Jason,” Billy pleads, tugging on his arm until he turns. “Please.”

Jason can’t resist the look on BIlly’s face, big brown eyes pleading and full bottom lip quivering. “Fine.”

Billy leaps up, grabbing his bag of medical supplies. He plops himself down in the passenger seat looking very pleased with himself. Jason has to remind him to put a shirt on. They’re on the way in under five minutes. 

Billy rattles off the direction Kim was heading. He has apparently been thinking about it for a while because he gives Jason an exact number of miles to where Kim is, “give or take a few.”

Once they reach the area, Jason drives in consecutively smaller circles so he doesn’t miss anything.

They find Kim a mile from Billy’s estimate. Well, they don’t really find her. They find someone who has found her.

A flickering light, a small fire, draws Jason’s attention. He drives towards it as quickly as he can. He can see two people, one slumped against a dune while the other looms over them. Her. Kim. Far enough out that the sound of their engine won’t alert the person with Kim, Jason stops the rail. They creep closer until they reach the base of the dune, still in the shadows. 

“You go around the other side,”Jason whispers. “Close him in.”

Jason unsheathes his machete from where it’s slung across his back. Billy may have a never-ending trust for people, but Jason’s learned. You can never be too careful. He rounds the dune before Billy does. In the light cast by the fire, Jason watches as the figure, a young man, bends over Kim’s prone form and grabs something from her hand. 

Jason lunges at him, tackling him to the ground and pinning him there with his machete blade pressed close to his throat. “Stay away from her,” he roars.

The man doesn’t fight. He raises his hands in surrender, saying, “Hey, hey, hey! I wasn’t gonna hurt her! I was just grabbing the bullet she had in her hand! I just finished patching her up, asshole.”

Billy rounds the dune then. “Jason! What are you doing?

“I thought he was going to hurt her,” he reasons.

“Well, I’m not. Can you let me up?”

Jason grumbles but gets off of him. Billy’s moved to Kim’s side. He checks over her thoroughly before turning to the stranger. He looks impressed, trusting. Jason hates that expression. It means that instead of just Kim, the stranger is going to be joining them as well. 

“Did you do these stitches?” he asks.

“Yeah,” the man rubs at his neck. “I used to do them for...well, let’s just say I have a lot of practice with medical stuff.”

Jason can’t help but find that strange. The man looks barely older than him. His tank top shows off defined pecs and strong arms, and, honestly, Jason would’ve tagged him as a meathead bodybuilder before any sort of nurse. 

“So, you guys know her?”

“Yeah, we helped her out with some bandits earlier today.” Billy wipes at Kim’s face with a damp scrap of fabric. Her skin, even in the warm light of the fire, is pasty.

“Then why weren’t you guys here? Why did she have to dig a fuckin’ bullet out of her own arm? You can’t try to protect her only when it’s convenient for you.”

“That’s not what we were doing!” Jason has decided he doesn’t like this dude. “She told us she didn’t want our help. That she didn’t want us. So we left. Can you really blame us?”

“I can blame you for leaving her to bleed out.”

Jason wouldn’t mind punching him in his smug face. “She wasn’t going to bleed out!” 

* * *

Kim gets jerked roughly into consciousness by the sounds of arguing. She groans quietly but doesn’t open her eyes, mentally taking stock of her body before she moves. She’s not tied up or anything, so whoever’s arguing around her haven’t captured her. Or, they haven’t captured her  _ well.  _ Her arm throbs. It no longer burns. She feels a soft hand brush hair out of her face and her eyes flutter open. It’s one of the boys from before. Billy, if she remembers correctly. He has a handkerchief in his hand that he’s using to wipe her face. Kim’s mouth quirks into a smile before she can stop it. His presence is almost soothing. The raised voices, however, are not.

“Will both of you  _ shut up _ ,” she orders, turning her head to look at them. Jason’s there, arguing with some kid she doesn’t recognize. He’s Asian, tall and lean with black hair flopping into his eyes. His cheeks are flushed in anger.

“She’s awake. We can take care of her, and you can go,” Jason says. He’s confrontational and angry.

“Hey, man, I’m not going anywhere.  As far as I know, you could want to kill her or something. I ain’t leaving her alone.” The sentiment, even though it isn’t needed, is appreciated.

Jason steps forward, pushing his way into the stranger’s space. Kim can tell he’s about three seconds from punching the guy in the face, and she distantly wonders what he did to deserve Jason’s ire.

“I said stop it. Fucking hell, guys, you can measure dicks later.” Kim turns to Billy. “Why are they fighting?”

“We came to find you cause I was worried and when we got here this guy was here. He gave you stitches, but we didn’t know that when we got here. Jason tackled him and they’re arguing about who gets to protect you I guess.”

“Ridiculous,” Kim murmurs.

She goes to sit up, but a hand on her good arm stops her. “Hey, Kim,” Billy’s voice is timid. “Would you – can you – what I mean to say is, will you please travel with us?”

Kim glances up at Jason and the other guy. They’re still facing off. She lets out a few more quips to get them to calm down while she thinks about her answer. They came after her. They tracked her down and made sure she was alright. And the stranger. He stopped her from bleeding. Stopped her from getting infected. Somehow she trusted all of them. Felt her reticence fading the longer she looked at them. She could always run if they got too close. If she felt like she was going to ruin things. There’s always the choice to leave.

“Hey, you,” she says to the stranger. “What’s your name?”

“Uh, it’s Zack.” He rubs the back of his neck and shifts on the loose sand.

“Hi, Zack. You want to travel with us?”

Billy jumps a little where he sits, clapping his hands. Jason looks between Kim and Billy before he rolls his eyes and sits on the dune next to them. Zack looks uncertain and lost. His right hand fidgets with the rolled sleeve of his unbuttoned shirt. 

“Uh, sure.” 

Kim turns to Billy. “So, where we headed?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you think? :D


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